


Nude Satin

by LazyBaker



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, F/F, Fem!Harry, Femslash, Intimacy, M/M, everyone is a woman, fem!eggsy, the Kingsman Knights are all female
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-01
Updated: 2015-07-01
Packaged: 2018-04-07 04:25:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4249200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LazyBaker/pseuds/LazyBaker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eggsy needs a bit of assistance with her makeup.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nude Satin

“Some mate of Roxy’s or something.”   

 

“You’ll want a lighter hue then, nothing to overshadow the art.”

 

Eggsy grunted and scoffed and rejected the overall premise she could _overshadow_ anything. She itched to hide and wind back time to where she hadn’t listened to Roxy’s strongly worded suggestion which had been on the borderlines of being a threat.

 

“Yeah, right.”

 

Harriet ' _Call Me Harry and Only Harry If You Know What's Good For You and Your Arse_ ' Hart looked over her shoulder, two steps ahead of Eggsy on the stairs making her already considerable height even more towering and intimidating. 

 

“You keep that up and I’ll be concerned about your perception of reality.”

 

“Fucking hell, Harry.” Eggsy’s face warmed.

 

Clearly, she had gone mental.

 

"This--" Harry firmly shepherded Eggsy into her bedroom and nudged Eggsy onto the small seat in front of her vanity. Eggsy tried not to focus too hard on how perfect her hands were and how nice they felt on her. It was a challenge. "--is a Duncan Phyfe vanity."

 

Eggsy blinked, looking up at Harry through the mirror. She looked soft, the warm light of her bedroom making her sharp features round out. Nothing at all like she was at work. She was tender and welcoming here.  

 

Dazed and keeping her eyes on Harry's face, Eggsy wondered why she had decided to do this. What demonic life-ruining being had possessed her and made her knock on Harry's door at half past six with her new heels crushing her toes and her very tiny and practically useless clutch in hand with an urgent plea for help with her makeup.

 

The answer was Roxy Morton.

 

Roxy and her need for Eggsy to be her date for _art gallery openings_. Eggsy would much rather have stayed at home and played with Daisy and JB. 

 

Or have come to see Harry without the ulterior motive of being done up like some high-class posh tosser on her night off. They could have had dinner. Eggsy could have had the wonderful privilege of seeing Harry in her adorable apron which highlighted her gorgeous hips and trim waist. Listened to her curse as she made dinner, with Eggsy in the other room preparing the drinks.

 

But Roxy had asked and Eggsy couldn’t exactly tell her she would much rather spend the night in with her mentor. 

 

The whole thing was already a mess.

 

‘ _Dread_ ’ was one of two words chosen for her today. The second being ’ _Harry looking comfortable and a bit sleepy which was making Eggsy all kinds of dizzy and frustrated and gagging for more than just a bit of lipstick_ ’.

 

And even more _mind fucking_ was the fact that Harry had let her in and not just told her to sod off.  She'd experienced first-hand how Harry was after missions and after nearly two weeks away in Argentina there had been no doubt in Eggsy’s mind that Harry would be half asleep and dressed in only her red robe. Communicating strictly through pointed looks and grunts.

 

Except she's not and it was throwing Eggsy off completely.

 

She swallowed. Concentrated instead on the beauty products neatly organized in front of her. The urge to pick up a tube of lipstick and fiddle with it in a clear display of nerves she should not have was nearly heart stopping.

 

"Who?"

“Duncan Phyfe.”

 

“And you’re telling me this because?”

 

Harry sighed. Her hips cocking in a more relaxed pose as she settled behind Eggsy, one hand still horribly planted on her bare shoulder, thumb idly making circles and attempting to rob Eggsy of every single brain cell she was still managing to cling onto. It was an awful weight, searing her skin and leaving Eggsy opening up and melting beneath her touch. 

 

She was a warm presence against her back. Comfort and safety and so much feeling erupted in Eggsy she was so _bloody thrilled_ she was sitting down.

 

Eggsy took a deep breath, trying to calm her oversensitive nerves and realized Harry wasn’t wearing her usual perfume. 

 

Eggsy shifted in her seat. Clenched her thighs together in a way she hoped tugging at the hem of her dress would hide. 

 

It was a blatant spark of subtlety. 

 

She was a Kingsman and ladies did not clench their thighs together because their mentors were touching them in a purely friends sort of way that had no sort of romantic or ‘I _want to take you to my bed and count every one of your freckles_ ’ undertone.

 

“Because this vanity is an original Phyfe. I found it while I was in the States. Around the nineties, I believe.”

 

Eggsy, attempting to curve the flush that was becoming more apparent with every moment, made a proper show of rolling her eyes. 

 

“Don’t act like you don’t remember. You remember the fucking knickers your mother gave birth to you in.”

 

“While I appreciate your enthusiasm in my abilities, you’re exaggerating.”

 

“Nah.” Eggsy smiled up at her reflection. “You probably remember the womb, too.”

 

“It was a cozy little place. Excellent room service.”

 

“Recommend it?”

 

“Of course. Five stars easily.” Harry moved, her hand slipping from Eggsy’s shoulder and bent to shuffle through the vanity drawers. Eggsy valiantly held back a whine. Eyed the way her back curved and peeked very briefly at the contour of her arse.

 

“So.” Eggsy swallowed and made herself look away, feeling more and more like a perv. “What about Phyfe?”

 

Harry hummed. Her shirt had three buttons un-buttoned. Eggsy could see more than a generous helping of soft skin. Touchable skin. The sweet dip before the swell of her breasts made a quick appearance before disappearing behind white silk. 

 

Eggsy wiped at the rapidly appearing sweat on her forehead with the back of her hand. A bit of foundation came off. Harry quickly stood up and handed her a tissue.

 

“Are you all right?” 

 

“Fine.” Eggsy cleared her throat. “Bit nervous, I guess.”

 

Harry nodded.

 

“Art openings are fairly simple affairs. Just make sure to drink plenty to curb your urge to strangle the more--“ Harry paused, eyes crinkling in an all too attractive manner. Her long lashes fanning out and making her eyes darken. “--pretentious of the lot.”

 

“Never seen me drunk, have you?”

 

“I suppose you might want to refrain from a fifth glass of champagne?”

 

“Harry,” Eggsy dragged out her name, all too happy to chat with her for the rest of the night. “Have more faith in my ability to hold my alcohol.”

 

“How thoughtless of me. I’m sure you could easily drink Vladamir under the table.”

 

Eggsy jutted out her chest. “Damn fucking straight I could.”

 

Harry snorted, a lovely sound that contrasted so much with Harry’s refined and elegant appearance. Eggsy could listen to it for the rest of her life. 

 

Harry moved behind her, a calculated look aimed at Eggsy. Slowly, she reached up, passed Eggsy’s shoulder and her neck. She touched the top of Eggsy’s head softly and pressed firmly down with the tips of her fingers.

 

Eggsy could very well cry.

 

Harry's fingers gently combed through the short strands of her hair. For one completely foolish moment Eggsy thought of telling her to stop. Thought to tell her she'd spent a solid hour trying to get it just right not only for the gallery but for some long shot of a hope that she might impress Harry with how she dressed herself. Convey to her that she'd learned and bettered herself because of Harry.

 

How she'd picked her heels specifically because they made her legs flex and her arse _fucking pop_ teasingly in her desire that maybe Harry might look at her and take her and make her forget she ever had some sort of art opening to attend or legs to walk on or a vocabulary which consisted of more words than ‘ _Harry_ ’.

 

But, she didn't.

 

She sighed, leaned her head towards Harry, encouraging and wanting more. No longer caring that her hair wasn’t perfectly gelled and combed. She trusted Harry wouldn't leave her too much of a mess. 

 

"Your hair." Harry said softly, nails scraping lightly at Eggsy's scalp. Her toes were going to curl right into her body at this point. "It's longer."

 

It took a moment for Eggsy to form words, the massage turning her into a puddle. She hadn't been touched like this since she was young and her mother had brushed her hair for her.

 

Except this wasn't familial. She hoped it wasn't.

 

"Don't need to worry about anyone grabbing it anymore, yeah?" Eggsy let her head be moved this way and that. Letting Harry do whatever she'd like to her. "Thought you might like it longer, too."

 

"You're growing it out for me?"

 

Eggsy stiffened and then tried to relax.

 

"You. Me. The Queen. That one guy who whistles at me on the tube. I'm a people pleaser."

 

Harry smoothed Eggsy's hair down. It wasn't as neat as it had been, but it still looked nice. Gave her a rough edge.

 

"You look lovely." Harry patted Eggsy’s back and then reached to the top drawer of the vanity. She bent down, her breast touching the back of Eggsy's shoulder. _Soft_. “Let’s get that lipstick so you can go join Roxy.”

 

Harry swiftly undid the lid on the lipstick. She twisted the base, revealing a pale pink. It was used often. Enough to be half way gone. Harry had put this on her own lips and the idea that in under a minute it was going to be touching Eggsy was too much for her to process.

 

"It's called ' _Nude Satin_ '." Harry said.

 

Eggsy repeated her, mind having fucked off for the rest of the night at the word ‘ _nude_ ’ coming out of Harry’s mouth, unsure of whether or not she'd imagined it. The obvious amusement set in Harry's features said this was indeed reality. Weird, blissful reality. 

 

She'll be replaying this entire night every single day until she was on her death bed.

 

Harry leaned in close, taking Eggsy's chin between her fingers and tilting her head slightly up until there was hardly any space between them. The pads of her fingers were rough, calloused after years and years of being a Kingsman agent. 

 

The bow of her lips called out to Eggsy, parted slightly, her tongue peaking out.

 

Eggsy could feel Harry's breath on her. Hot and quick and maybe all this wasn't affecting just her.

 

She bit at her lip, a habit she's had since she was a child. Harry tsk'd at her.

 

"Now none of that." She said, her smooth voice lulling Eggsy closer. The room became smaller, the air thick molasses. Abruptly, she thought she might not survive this. She could die like this, next to some antique vanity, soaked through her knickers, her heart leaving a gaping hole in her chest after beating too fast it flew right out of her.

 

"Now be a good girl for me, Eggsy, and don't move an inch."

 

Eggsy shuddered, leaning forward in her seat without thought, chasing after Harry’s words and her body’s reaction to them.

 

"Yes, ma'am."

 

The lipstick glided slowly across her bottom lip. Steady and smooth in Harry's expert grasp.

 

"Why did you come here?” Harry said softly, breath puffing hot onto Eggsy. “You're perfectly capable of putting lipstick on by yourself."

 

Eggsy fidgeted, tried to not look at Harry, but she was too close. Instead she focused her gaze on the bed to her left. The covers were unmade, Harry must have been sleeping when Eggsy had come to her door. She mumbled out an excuse. "Just wasn’t sure about the color is all."

 

Harry’s thumb pressed harder against the underside of her bottom lip, close to slipping inside and Eggsy knew she wouldn’t be able to do anything but suck on it.

 

Harry moved to apply the lipstick to her upper lip. Taking her time. Eggsy couldn’t imagine doing her makeup ever again without thinking of this moment.

 

"I see." Harry said and Eggsy could feel how she stiffened. Could practically see the space between them now and this was the chill of the arctic compared to the heat a moment ago. 

 

She swallowed, unnerved by the bubble of anxiety in her chest.

 

"Plus, haven't seen you since you'd left. And, you know, wanted to see how you were. Expected you to be passed out in bed, really." Eggsy chanced a peek and saw Harry staring at her. Considering her. "How are you, anyways?"

 

"Drained."

 

"Oh."

 

"But," Harry paused, pulling back and studying Eggsy’s lips. "Happy to see you."

 

“You too.” Eggsy managed to push out. Maybe this was the moment, the grand climax where she would tug Harry down by her neck and finally twist her fingers into Harry’s curly hair. Kiss her and trade pigment via their lips and later feel the way her bare thighs molded to the sides of Eggsy’s head.

 

She could feel it swell inside of her and she could hardly breathe.

 

“I found it in Portland.”

 

Eggsy choked, heart racing. “What?”

 

“The vanity. I found it in Portland, a little antique shop I visited after three awful days of tracking down the men who kidnapped one of the princes--“

 

“--of England?”

 

“Yes, Eggsy.” Harry straightened, brushing a few stray strands of her hair behind her ear. “It was tucked away in the corner, forgotten and covered in dust, scratches everywhere. Abysmal condition. It hadn’t been loved like it deserved. I don’t believe the proprietor knew what they had, so I bought it and had it shipped home right away.”

 

Eggsy nodded slowly. Wondered which prince it had been and if they had fallen for Harry and then was forced to think how many admirers Harry must have. How there would be more than a few better suited for a woman like Harry than Eggsy could ever dream to be.

 

“That’s good? Right?”

 

“It is.” Harry nodded with too much earnestness and perhaps Eggsy was missing something or maybe one of Harry’s many passions really was restoring furniture along with framing dead insects and watching rom-coms obsessively.

 

She was looking at Eggsy expectantly. Eggsy searched for any sort of clue and found none.

 

“You got an eye for nice things,” Eggsy added, uncertain of what this was and what she was meant to say. “I guess?”

 

Harry smiled, small and fond. “My girl, how right you are.” 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](http://granpappy-winchester.tumblr.com/)


End file.
